


"Here."

by mmimsy7



Category: Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Seventh year, explanation for a magicath scene, possibly underage?, the age-to-year ratio is somewhat unknown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmimsy7/pseuds/mmimsy7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon gets in a fight with Penelope and his roommate helps calm him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Here."

**Author's Note:**

> A big, big thanks to my dear friend and beta, Rose (freakwithasilverknifecollection), especially for helping me out with those Simon Snow wizard swears :)
> 
> This is my personal headcanon for one of my favorite scenes from Carry On, Simon-- you'll see which one at the end. 
> 
> (I tried to be kind of British-sounding, but I obviously suck at that. Plus the spelling is all American. So. Yeah.)
> 
> EDIT: Dec 17, 2014. So I cleaned it up a little bit, because there were some mistakes and formatting issues that were bothering me. I didn't, however, do anything about the multitude of ellipses, because I think that would take hours to correct. (Seriously, there are so many, I can't believe my July self. I don't even particularly LIKE ellipses.)

“Just leave me alone, Simon. I don't want to talk about it any longer.”

“Penelope--”

“Go. Away.”

Defeated, Simon trudged back through the corridor and away from the library, where Penelope still sat, curled into herself and quietly shaking-- with rage or sobs, Simon wasn’t sure. Penelope didn't get mad at him often, but when she did, she got _mad_. She once went a full two weeks without so much as glancing in his direction back in third year when he had accidentally messed up a very important spell of hers involving a phoenix feather and different rare herbs brewing at varying temperatures. They had made up and been back to their normal, easy friendship within a few days of the shunning, though, and knowing Penelope, the same would probably be true for this argument. It didn't make her words sting any less, though.

This time it hadn't been a spell gone awry that had set his best friend off; it had been Simon. Penelope had insisted that he wasn't paying enough attention in his classes, that he wouldn't be able to defend himself well enough when the time came for him to face the humdrum. Simon knew that Penelope's rage came almost entirely from deep concern for his well-being, but a small part of him still found her accusation horribly offensive. It was this part of him that took over as he rose to her bait and found himself shouting back, regretting every word even as he hurled it at her.

“Were you planning on coming in, Snow, or are you just going to stand there all day like an idiot?”

Simon started, his roommate's sneering comment jolting him out of his miserable thoughts. Apparently he had long ago reached his room, and had, in fact, just been standing by the door frame looking sorry for himself. He glared halfheartedly at Baz, muttered a "shut up," and trudged over to his bed before collapsing onto it. God, he was tired. The argument with Penelope had begun sometime after dinner, so he figured it must be pretty late now.

Sure enough, Baz snickered at his apparent misery. “Well, what's got your knickers in a knot?” he taunted. “Somebody not fully appreciating the great hero that is Simon Oliver Snow? Oh, how _ever_ will you _live_ knowing you're not absolutely beloved by all in your charming little kingdom?”

“I said, _shut up,_ ” Simon turned his face to glare at the bothersome young man sitting on the bed across from his. Baz had been reading a book when Simon had first come in, but now the book was resting against his pillow, forgotten. The vampire himself had his legs crossed and was looking at Simon with one eyebrow raised, as if to judge whether or not he was actually upset about something of importance. Apparently his despair was acceptable because something softened in Baz's eyes, and he sounded almost _sincere_ when he spoke again.

“What's wrong, Snow?”

Simon snorted and turned his face back into his pillow. “Why should I talk to you about it? All you'll do is make fun of me.”

“You'd be surprised, Snow. I can be quite a great comfort when I care to be,” he replied. To Simon, this seemed vaguely sarcastic, but he was pretty sure this was just a defense mechanism he had grown over the years. “Anyway, you seem quite bothered. Just...know I'm here for you. If you need to talk.”

Simon whipped his head around to stare at his roommate in shock. Where the hell was all this _kindness_ coming from? As far as Simon knew, Baz hated him. Simon covered his disbelief by coating his voice with mocking disdain when he spoke. (A Baz move if he'd ever heard one. Crowley, his wretched roommate was rubbing off on him more and more with each passing year. Simon wasn't sure how he felt about that.) “You're... _here_ for me?”

Baz seemed to realize how strange his words sounded at about the same time as Simon, because he quickly backtracked and stammered, “I just.... Well, I don't want you stinking up the place with all that self-pity. Better to just get it out and over with then letting it stew inside that ugly mop of a head you've got.” Simon nodded slowly, not fully registering anything Baz was saying because was that a _blush_ creeping up Baz's neck? Cool, collected Basilton,  _blushing?_ And why? Because he'd accidentally let slip that he wasn't a complete robot? Because he'd expressed concern for another human being? Or was it because that human being was Simon?

Simon realized that he was still staring at Baz and turned away hurriedly. David Devant, now _he_ was feeling the beginnings of a blush. “Alright then,” he began, “Penelope and I got into a fight.” He focused on the edge of his of his pillowcase where a thread was coming loose and continued. “She thinks I've been slacking off in my classes, and that I won't be ready for the humdrum when I have to face it.” Simon sighed and went on, still carefully avoiding Baz's gaze. “But it's not just that. Bloody hell, it's _everything._ I have to face the _insidious humdrum_ for Crowley's sake. How many seventh years you know have to do something like _that?_ But of course I'm expected to do it, because I'm _different_ , because I'm the sodding Mage's Heir, whatever _that's_ supposed to mean.” Simon paused and risked a glance at Baz, to find him listening and still watching Simon's face intently. “Sorry,” Simon blurted,“I didn't mean to just dump it all on you like that.”

Baz blinked, surprised. “Don't _apologize_. You've nothing to apologize for. Agarat's ankle, I thought you enjoyed all the hype that came with being the legendary Mage's Heir.''

“Well, I do, kind of. But.... It all gets to be a bit much. And...I don't even know if I'm cut out for it. It's been years, and I'm still not sure I'll be able to defeat the humdrum when I meet it. I'm not anything special, Baz. I'm just an orphan who stumbled into all this magical nonsense and got sucked into it, and here I am, seven years later....” He trailed off as he heard Baz's bedsheets rustle, and then suddenly the vampire was across the room, and sitting on Simon's bed with him. Simon gulped and looked up, taking in the gentle way Baz was looking at him, arms slightly extended as if he had gone to embrace him but thought better of it. Simon was painfully aware of the space between his and Baz's kneecaps. If he just shifted his weight, just a bit, they might brush together....

“Go on,” Baz said, startling him out of his studious contemplation of the wrinkles in his roommate's pajama leg.

“That's it, really,” Simon managed, still not meeting Baz's eyes. Now he was _definitely_ blushing. Damn it.

Baz heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Listen, Snow...don't ever tell anyone I told you this, because I will not hesitate to throw you to the merwolves, but.... If anyone's cut out to be the sodding Mage's Heir, defeat the humdrum, all that nonsense...it's you. All your--” he waved his hand in the air in a despairing gesture, “--annoyingly earnest heroics and...Aleister Crowley, Snow, _look at me_.” He grabbed Simon's chin with his hand and moved it so that Simon was looking him in the eye, keeping his long, slim (surprisingly gentle) fingers there as he continued. “I'm not going to repeat any of this, because this is absolutely humiliating, so listen up. You may be a classic Good Guy-- brave, kind, blue-eyed, the works-- but you're also a _good guy._ Hell, you might actually be able to finish that monster once and for all. And I know you think we're enemies, and that I'd like nothing more than your head on a platter, and believe me, sometimes I do--” he cut himself off and started again, lightly brushing his thumb against Simon's cheek seemingly without realizing it, never breaking eye contact. “But I can put aside our squabbles if the fate of the entire magical world actually lies in your hands, Snow. I would even help, you know. If you wanted it. Just don't forget that I'm here.” The brushing inched towards Simon's lips, and Simon realized he had closed his fist in Baz's sleeve as he spoke, pulling him ever so slightly closer.

“I… Thank you,” Simon whispered, and then he realized that he'd whispered it, which led him to realize that his face was within whispering distance of Baz's. And maybe it should have been uncomfortable. Probably it should have been uncomfortable. But it wasn't. It felt good, breathing the same air as his roommate. Natural. And maybe, just maybe, not quite enough....

Baz's thumb was blatantly stroking Simon's bottom lip now, his gray eyes following its movements. Simon found himself looking towards the other boy's lips as well, and they were parted ever so slightly, and suddenly the distance between the two of them, however small, was more hateful than any monster he'd ever swung his sword at, any nefarious plan the humdrum might have in store. Simon's hand stole up Baz's neck, tangling itself in his hair, and he leaned his forehead against Baz's without thinking.

“Baz, do you th--” Simon began, but was quickly cut off as Baz groaned and muttered an exasperated _oh, shut_ up _, Snow_ , and then Baz was kissing him, warm and soft and tender, and Simon's surprised _oomf_ was muffled against the other boy's mouth.

After a few seconds, Baz froze and started to pull away, and Simon couldn’t for the life of him understand why until he realized that in his astonishment he had neglected to return the affection. Mentally cursing his stupidity, he pulled Baz back in, kissing him until the other boy relaxed into him, sighing quietly. They moved to accommodate each other, and their bodies fit together perfectly, and this was better than anything he had ever dared to let himself imagine, better than any dream he'd tried so desperately to forget, to convince himself didn't matter.... But this wasn't a dream, this was real, and perhaps that should have made it infinitely more terrifying to him, that this was changing everything he'd thought he knew about his relationship with Baz.... But Baz would never _actually_ hurt him. If Simon had learned anything from his years at Watford, it was that. And Baz wouldn't have kissed him if he hadn't felt the same way, as hopeless as the notion had always seemed to Simon....

But Simon soon lost his train of thought because _bloody hell_ Baz could kiss. Simon had done his fair share of snogging with Agatha, but it had never been like this. Hell, Simon didn't know snogging _could_ be like this. It was as if Baz had physically coaxed the weight from Simon's shoulders with his tongue, and Simon hadn't thought tongues had that ability, but he supposed if one did, it _would_ be Baz's, the bastard. _Of course he's an unbelievable kisser,_ Simon chided himself, _did you really expect any less from Tyrannus Basilton Pitch III?_

“Baz,” he managed to start, in between breaths, “You aren't...you didn't… use magic...to...you know....”

Baz pulled away to look him in the eye, confused, but he caught on quickly. “Snow,” he intoned, the corners of his mouth quirking up, “are you asking me if I'm using magic to enhance my snogging abilities?” He had broken into a complete grin now, a rarity for Baz, and Simon forgot about his embarrassment for a couple seconds to enjoy the happy (if slightly teasing) glint in Baz's eyes. “Because I'm flattered, but no.” He moved back in, just barely brushing his lips against Simon's.

Simon shivered and pounced on him, pushing him back down against the bed and kissing the smug grin right off his face.

But later, when they could both form a coherent sentence again and the sheets were a touch sticky, all of Simon's worries that had been so pleasantly absent while he was...err... _distracted_...came rushing back.

“But Baz,” he started, “how _will_ I defeat the humdrum? What kind of magic defeats a creature that _destroys_ magic? Would my magic even work on it? What if--”

Baz sighed and reached over to turn out the light, then settled Simon into his arms and kissed him to shut him up, long and slow and deep. He then buried his nose in Simon's hair and closed his eyes, seemingly intent on them both falling asleep, and breathed a quiet, “Shhh.”

“I just--”

“Hush.”

“I worry--”

“Don't.”

“But--”

“Simon.”

“Baz?”

“Here.”

**Author's Note:**

> -DISCLAIMER- Apart from the obvious fact that this is fanfiction, and I do not own these characters or Watford or any of it, I did not write the dialogue bit at the end. That is a scene directly from Fangirl, and, of course, belongs in every way to the wonderful Rainbow Rowell. Thank you.


End file.
